Post Twin Depression
by dCass
Summary: After Fred's death, George isn't exactly having the best time of his life...
1. Nightmares

Happiness was etched on his face, and yet his brother couldn't understand how he could look so gleeful. This laughing face was the only thing he saw, his brother's voice the only thing he heard in his head. Nothing else mattered to him. Not his mother, hysterical, slumped over the body of her son, not the other fifty bodies that lay on the floor, not the fact that his younger brother's best friend was probably going to die, along with the happiness of the entire wizarding world; just the laughing face that was before him. He was looking into his own face, or what he wished he was feeling. But how? How could his life ever be the same again? He felt like the only person in the entire world. Only he knew this kind of pain. He had lost a part of _him._ He wanted to be secluded from the entire world. He wanted to sit here on the cold stone floor and wallow for the rest of his life. It felt like he had never been happy in his life, though he had spent the majority of his time laughing.

George awoke with a start. He was covered in cold sweat. Another nightmare. It was the same one he had been having for over six months, when sleep finally found him, but scarcely. He checked his watch. Five o'clock. He had only slept two hours, but he could not possibly go back to sleep. It would be useless. He got up from the bed, which actually was not his. He hadn't slept in his own bed since May. He adjusted the crooked wooden F above the headboard and stepped back to check it. George sighed deeply the slumped back onto the bed. He looked over to the small kitchen table. Two years ago two identical freckled faces were squashed in sleep upon that table top along with many failed products. They were preparing for Christmas. George hadn't even bothered to make any new products for Christmas this year. Everybody would just have to deal with what he had. There was a faint knock at the flat's door. With a flick of his wand, George opened the door.

"Hi." said Ron with a faint smile.

"What are you doing here so early? Why aren't you sleeping?" George asked. "I'm fine. You don't have to lose sleep for me, you know."

"I know, I know, keep your hair on." Ron replied. George's stomach turned. That was Fred's line.

"I just thought I'd come earlier today. I knew you'd be awake."

"Yeah, alright." George replied. He could do with some company.

"Want me to make some tea?" Ron asked

"No, don't trouble yourself. Let me."

"Take it easy, mate." Ron said hastily as George winced getting up from the bed. The other day, George had eaten a Puking Pastille without realizing it and misplaced the other end. He was still feeling a bit faint from it.

"Maybe you should just let me run the shop for today. You won't be able to stand for more than two minutes, condition you're in," Ron suggested.

"No. it's Christmastime. The sales will be insane. It's a two man job." George said pointedly.

"Well, no offence, mate, but you won't be much help." Ron replied.

"Fine, but if some bloody customer is too much for you to handle, I don't want to hear about it."

What was he talking about? George himself had been short tempered with his customers lately, and he had always been patient before. He thought everybody knew about Fred by now, so he lashed out at anyone who asked him what was wrong. George needed a day of relaxation, and this was the day.


	2. Memories Never to be Forgotten

Ron was down in the shop, taking care of everything. No need to worry. George really didn't have any energy to worry at the moment. He was exhausted. He flopped down on Fred's bed and fell into a lost sleep…

Fred and George were standing outside of Ron's bedroom.

"Okay, if you hear anybody, other than that bloody ghoul, just pretend to sneeze. If anybody asks you what you're doing out of bed, just sort of shake your head and pretend that you were sleep walking." Fred directed.

"Right," George replied with a short nod.

"Okay" Fred said with a malicious smile that was missing its two front teeth. George's face broke into an identical one. Fred slowly creaked open the door and crept in. George could hear a faint pop in the background and knew the deed was done. Fred tip-toed out of Ron's room biting his tongue and shaking with laughter. They were on their way up the stairs when they heard a loud scream and a small red-headed boy ran out of the room crying hysterically.

"What's wrong, Ron?" George asked, trying to sound sympathetic.

"Hey, you little git, you going to tell us what you're soiling your pants about?" Fred yelled over the huge sobs.

"Sp-sp-spiderrr! Spider ate m-m-my teddy!" Ron sputtered.

Fred and George burst with laughter and nearly fell off the stairs.

"What in the name of Merlin is going on here?" Percy appeared looking very disgruntled. The angry look on his face caused Fred and George to go hysterical.

"WHAT THE HELL HAVE YOU DONE TO YOUR BROTHER?!" came the eerie voice of their mother.

"Oh damn" the twins whispered simultaneously under their breaths.

"Mummy! Spider ate my teddy!" said the tiny Ron, tugging at his mother's

sleeve, sobbing hysterically.

"Molly, dear, perhaps I should talk to Fred and George. I'll set them straight." Said Mr Weasley, apparently afraid that his wife was about to explode.

"The hell you will! Get your sorry butts downstairs, NOW!" roared Mrs. Weasley.

Fred and George turned a delicate shade of crimson and stalked down to the living room. Once in the living room they high-fived each other. As soon as they heard their mother coming down the stairs, they immediately sat down on the couch and started twiddling their thumbs guiltily.

"Do you realize you could have traumatized your brother? He might not be able to see another damn spider without having a panic attack!"

A small surge of guilt went through George, but he ignored it. He could tell Fred was feeling the same thing because he noticed a small grimace appear on his face. But as quickly as it appeared, it vanished. Personally, George was quite proud that he helped influence his brother's life, no matter how negative it may have been.

The scene dissolved, and Fred and George were sitting in the stands in the Quidditch pitch. They had their broomsticks in hand, and were eagerly awaiting to try out for the beater positions. They were pretty lucky that both of the beaters before them graduated at the end of the twins' first year. This way, if they both met the standards, they could both be on the team. They weren't nervous; they knew what nerves could do to a person.

"Let's see, you two, you're up now." Said Oliver Wood, captain, fourth year, and keeper.

Fred and George grabbed their brooms and ran onto the pitch. They mounted their brooms and flew up next to either side of one of the chasers. The chaser looked at George with the bat in his hand and smirked. Then she looked to her right and saw Fred and the smile wiped off her face. She was clearly confused about how somebody could travel so quickly on a broomstick. Fred returned her smirk. George hit the bludger as hard as he could and WHAM. It hit her hard in the back of the head.

Wood blew the whistle and everybody dismounted their brooms and the hopeful beaters and chasers were left to wait while Wood, the chaser George had hit, and the seeker discussed the performances. This discussion went by rather quickly, as though one of the decisions were unanimous.

Wood turned to the group. "Alright, chasers: Alicia Spinnet and Angelina Johnson. Beaters: Fred and George Weasley."

Fred and George's faces broke into identical grins and the scene dissolved.

Fred and George were asleep in their dormitories in their seventh year. It was nearing Christmas, and they were on a roll with thinking of new products. A sudden shake awoke George and when he opened his eyes, he saw Ginny, who looked as though she were still half asleep.

"George- I don't know what's going on, but apparently we have to go to Dumbledore's office. It's urgent."

George looked to his right and saw Fred looking thoroughly confused with Professor McGonagall telling him to get up so late.

"Follow me, you three."

Fred, George, and Ginny did as they were told, but all three of them were wondering what was going on. After what seemed to be hours, the arrived in Dumbledore's office. They weren't surprised to see Ron and Harry there.

Dumbledore started explaining everything, but Fred and George were fighting to stay awake. Their eyes snapped wide open when they heard the words "Your father has been attacked."

They were now standing in the kitchen of number four, Privet Drive. Everything was slightly blurred, but as soon as Fred and George placed the round glasses over their eyes, they saw everything clearly. George hopped onto a broomstick next to Lupin while Fred was with Mr. Weasley. George couldn't help but feel anxious with what was coming next. He was putting his life on the line, but he wasn't concerned about himself. He was trying to fight off the mental image of Fred getting hit with the killing curse.

George and Lupin took off, but seconds later, they were surrounded by Death Eaters. George's heart started beating incredibly fast. George pulled out his wand and shot hexes here and there. He heard a deep, cold voice behind him.

"SECTUMSEMPRA!" Snape yelled.

"ARGH! My head! My ear! What the bloddy hell happened to my ear!" George started to feel dizzy and everything went black.

George was now in Hogwarts- hexes and curses shooting everywhere. There was a huge explosion that happened a few minutes ago, and George went to go see who were the victims.

There it was- a large pile of rubbish, but there seemed to be only one body. George couldn't make out who it was from a distance. He could have sworn he saw red hair, but he refused to believe it. It must just be somebody with blood stained hair. But George drew nearer, and there was no mistaking who he was seeing lying on the floor of Hogwarts, with not a breath left in him: Fred. George collapsed to his knees in front of his twin. He couldn't draw breath, he couldn't see anything. Everything was drowning in his eyes. George heard a distant scream. His mother and father just arrived at the scene.

George woke up to a sopping wet pillow case.


	3. Back to the Burrow

George looked around the flat. It was a mess. A day of cleaning couldn▓t hurt. He decided he would start with the coat closet; that was the center of the mess. Boxes upon boxes were stacked. George opened a box, and found that it was filled wih photos of the Weasleys. He wasn▓t being obliged to clean, so he decided to look through the pictures. The very top picture was a clipping of The Daily Prophet. All nine Weasleys waving merrily. He set the picture aside and started rummaging some more. There were loads of pictured of Bill as an infant. George assumed that once Charlie was born, his parents really didnt have the patience to snap a photo at every cute thing a baby does. He finally found a picture to his interest: two identical toddlers were rolling on the floor laughing. Percy must have tripped or something. George felt himself smile. It felt good to smile, like lost hope arising once again. There was a large wad of photos beneath the one of Fred and George laughing. They all seemed to be of the twins. Whether they were out in the field playing Quidditch or they were opening presents on Christmas morning; they were smiling in every one. They weren't cheesey and fake, they were always genuine.

George found himself feeling sorry for the happy children in the photo. They didn't know what lay ahead of them. He felt more toward Fred. What's an ear to a life? He needed comfort. He had to talk to his family. He had to get his life back. George grabbed his coat and set off for the Burrow. He he had only gone home three times since June, and that was for Fred's funeral, Harry's birthday and Ginny's birthday. He hadn't gone home just because he felt like it at all. George's stomach turned. His mother would be preparing for Christmas, and Fred wouldn't be with him to sample the delicous food. They would pester her every year to let them get a small sample before everyone else, just so they could give their opinions. That was'nt true, of course, they just wanted to eat good food.  
George was too weak to apparate still, so he used Floo Powder. He took a pinch out of the flower pot on the mantle, htrew it in, and stepped into the fire place. "This is it," he told himself.

"The Burrow!"

George felt the sensation of being sucked through a tube, and landed in the kitchen of his childhood home. Sitting at the table were Harry and Ginny. Ginny had her head in her hands, and Harry was huuging her. She must've been very upset about something. Ginny looked up, her face red and tear-stained.

"Fr- oh. George. Are you okay?" Ginny asked

"Let me ask that same question," George replied, lifting an eyebrow.

"I'm fine," Ginny said, shaking her head and wiping her eyes.

"If you insist..." George said. "Where's Mum?"

"Living room." Harry replied.

George walked into the living room to find his mother sitting on the couch staring at the Christmas tree. George cleared his throat and she turned around.

"George! How are you? Are you alright?" She immediately started interrogating him.

"I'm fine, Mum. A little depressed, I'll admit though. Just coming in to see the family." George lowered his voice. "Do you know what's wrong with Ginny?"

"She's in a bit of shock, is all. It hit her hard when she reliazed it would be the first Christmas without your brother."

"Yeah," George said, his eyes starting to sting. "Me too." 


End file.
